


The Heir

by Kendrix



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrix/pseuds/Kendrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the past of our favourite Dog Demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Son

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. Also, I'm not earning a single Euro with this.

Long before the first stirrings of his yet incomplete body were noticeable to anyone but his mother, his name had already been chosen to mean "Deathly Perfection." - And from the moment he was born carrying the blood of one of the most ancient, most infamous lineages of demon nobility, nothing short of that was expected of him.

The long line of the many glorious deeds of the white dog-demons of the west dated back so far that they had become legends even amongst the timeless creatures of the dark, their feats so many in number that their foes often found themselves wondering how strength like theirs could even exist in this world, and in fact, the otherworldly power that had made them known and feared far beyond the borders of the lands they controlled might not be of this earth at all; Accounts of their origin state that their ancestors were the offspring of one of the very hounds of hell who had fallen in love with an earthly demon when the world was still young; No matter how far it might have been diluted, blood from hell flowed through all of their veins, and this was the legacy that every single young dog demon had to live up to, that was the meaning of the name they had to carry; Achieving anything less than illustrious glory would be enough to sully it all and brand them as failures.

And yet, none of them knew the weight of this burden as well as he did, for none of the many clans that the canine sovereigns had brought fourth quite as many excellent warriors as the half-moon-clan of the floating citadel, whose princess was his mother, and no single individual had ever amassed as much well-deserved fame as his father, the man that even his closest confidantes amongst his subordinates would only ever dare to address as the Inu no Taisho – He was the youngest to ever claim that title, and as long as he lived, his position was absolute: Unparalleled in skill, strength, determination and demonic power, he was known thorough the land as an invincible immortal whom his foes would often jokingly refer to as "almighty one", spitting the word out like it was the dirtiest of insults. No one could hold a candle to him, no one was a match.

And he, his son, could only look up to him in awe like he was a huge, strong, impregnable tower casting its long shadow at the edge of the night.

Now, there wasn't a single child in this world that didn't worship its parents like they were some sort of Gods; As he should find out much later, that was the very beauty of children, that they just went along and loved you, just like that, without asking for anything in return, and waited roughly until puberty to judge whether you were even worthy of any love at all, reaching out to you with their tiny hands, showing you irresistible gestures of innocent affection and unconditional adoration; His admiration for his parents would probably have been just as boundless if they hadn't been powerful demon lords, and as a young child, he didn't possess the capacity to understand the meaning of their titles anyway; All he knew was that everyone was saying how his parents were very great, and while that wasn't something he needed to be told to know it, it gave him a warming satisfaction to be told that he was right. He figured that the praise of others would make his parents happy, and that was enough for him to be happy as well. His first concepts of pride, honor and legacy were similarly simple and free of any notion of pressure: His parents were great, so it was only natural that he should try to be as great as them and do things like they do.

Later, he puzzled the words of the servants and vassals together to realize that many of them talked of something he owed his parents and other ancestors, that people would be ashamed of them and him if he should fail. Naturally, he didn't want his family to be unhappy, and much less because of him, so the logical conclusion was that he should do what everyone said he should do so people would praise him.

And he hungered for that praise, for it was the only sort of orientation he had, the only signal that could tell him if his efforts were enough, the only thing that could calm the fears which, in hindsight, seemed ridiculously childish.

It was only as he grew older that he came to understand. While he lived a sheltered life with dozens of servants ready to read his every wish off his small lips, the world outside was filled with countless miserable beings that were ceaselessly killing each other in meaningless strife, dying senseless death without being remembered. In a society such as theirs, which was composed of beings that held immeasurable power from the moment they were born, no law could be upheld but that of the jungle: The strong live and rule, the weak die or serve. There wasn't a single demon who wasn't also a warrior. Strength was valued above anything else, and honor and pride were a luxury for those who could afford to have them and live. In other words, it was this pride that separated those worth living in this world from the short-lived trash beneath; If he did not pay respect to himself and act in a manner worthy of a future demon lord, no one would respect him.

When he was young, the young demon Prince saw that as one of the pillars of the world, a law of nature that was as senseless to wonder about as the question whether something he let go of would fall to the ground.

The knowledge that he had been born in a privileged position, that his parents had already reserved him a place in the greater scheme of things did not calm him, but served as a constant reminder of the status he had to uphold; One moment of weakness, and the many weak ones would rise from the deep to shoot him out of his orbit, dragging the pride of his family down with him into the swamp of their unworthiness, and it would only be what he deserved.

To be safe from such a downfall, he needed to be strong and free of fear, and to be free of fear, he needed to know that feeling it was unnecessary, that he was worthy of staying here.

He needed his pride.

True pride, not foolish delusions like vanity or arrogance that would only serve to blind him.

He had to crush his insecurities with strength and hone his skills so he could just know that he was good enough to back up the promise that came with his name.

Every ounce of weakness had to be eliminated from his being.

Of course, he wasn't alone with this task; Only the best of the best were handpicked to teach the lone son of the Inu no Taisho; General Culture, the History of his clan, the exact magnitude of his duties and obligations, the correct manner and bearing of a lord, and of course, most of all, how to fight.

Nothing less than his very own name was the goal, no one less than the Inu no Taisho set the bar, and nothing but utmost excellence would come close to being anywhere near enough.

If he couldn't master a skill at the first try, he would train until every part of his body protested in agony, if he did, which was the case often enough to leave his teachers staring in awe, he would still work to further perfect his abilities until his hands bled.

His senses had to be the sharpest, his reflexes the fastest, his elegance pristine, he could not accept the tiniest flaw and he would be damned if he ever came close to the average.

Many a hardened demon would have broken down crying under the strain he put himself into as a mere youth, even as his teachers and even his father objected. But he was actually good at it, he did have the innate talents to make it work and surpass their expectations time and time again.

He made himself aware of every single muscle in his face and the effect of every ever-so-tiny non-verbal cue, and taught himself to monitor every small change in his posture, every sudden movement of his heart. He chose his clothing and armor to immediately tell anyone who he was and how they compared to him, elegant, with a few discreet, yet brightly colorful patterns to mark himself as one who could afford the material, but not needlessly grandiose, balancing between instilling fear and establishing distance and superiority, while always putting freedom of movement and functionality before anything else.

He would not allow any tremor of his hands, any quiver of his brow, any grunt of pain, any twitching in his face any uncontrolled flare of his demonic aura and least of all any tears to disturb the calm, controlled demeanor; His firm, nonchalant expression was his castle, his bulwark against the world, and he sure wasn't going to surrender it to the enemy.

The hardening of his face was again something he could begin to take pride in, something that elevated him and separated him from the lowly vermin crawling over the ground.

The only deviation from his usual expression that he allowed himself was a thin smile of cold delight not unlike his mother's, reserved for when he was supposed to be mildly amused, looking down at the weak or exchanging banter with her, playing along with that dramatic side of hers he had little understanding of.

He also carried that smirk into battle, whenever the opponent was worthy of seeing it, or when he felt that he was pushing his limits, reaching the point where he could feel himself wearing thin, with every single muscle and every tiny bone in his body begged to be allowed to collapse onto the slippery, muddy ground, so the cool, steady rain could wash over them until all the heat, tension and pain that came with his exertion would have dispersed into his surroundings, giving his thundering heartbeat and his fast breathing time to normalize It were these moments where he felt the closest thing to bliss, where he didn't have a reason to hold back his elation and felt most one with himself.

If he should succumb to his weakness and fail to keep himself upright, he wound promptly punish himself with more exercise – His father had often told him that there was nothing lower than a hypocrite, and thus, he regarded his own weakness with the same cruelty he would apply to the weak ones he considered beneath him; He would not tolerate any of it, expunging it without mercy, and if that meant drenching himself in his own sweat over and over again, then so it be.

It wasn't as if his efforts were futile; As critical as he might be with himself, it did not keep him from taking pride in the results, for he could feel himself changing, both mentally and physically. When he was small, he used to see the world as a large, scary place that he only knew a tiny fraction of. Now that he was starting to understand, its rules and truths seemed very simple, and the possibility of making use of them was visibly within his grasp.

He found himself able to do things that once would have had him gasping for air after a few futile attempts without the slightest effort, catching himself marveling at the amount of the destruction that he was able to cause completely unarmed, with nothing but his bare hands.

His body was not maturing as fast as his skills, but the almost delicate-looking boy he had once met on the opposite side of a mirror was long gone, replaced by a lean, slender teenager with swirling fires of determination beneath his deadly serious exterior who in turn watched his reflection fade into that of a tall, well-built young man whose icy calm could hardly be shaken by anything.

As he was entering that last stage, he began to think that the hairstyle he had worn nearly all his life no longer looked appropriate, and the silvery-white bob of hair which had always been neatly cut off somewhere between his chin and his shoulders was allowed to grow freely; Allowing it to flowed behind him like a stream of liquid silver that had suddenly come to life when the cool, nocturne wind took hold of it in its attempt to wrest it from the grasp of the moonlight which danced within the strands, endowing its owner with a wild, unearthly presence that he felt a proper demon like himself should have.

It would probably take quite some time for it to reach the length of his father's hair (In fact, his father ultimately didn't live to see that day), yet he doubted that his choice to stop cutting it would go unnoticed for long – Combined with the garments he had chosen to somewhat mimic the style of his source of inspiration, the purpose of that detail should be plain to see. He might've tied it up as well, that hair of his, but that would have been too blatant; A man of power should never be so easy to read, plus, the one time he actually tried it, he instantly came to the conclusion that it just didn't look right; The hair he had inherited was his mother's, completely straight and silky, lacking the fullness, volume and slightly wild quality of his father's. Still, its length and the outfit would have to be enough; Imitation was said to be the sincerest form of flattery, and one of the few that he could allow himself; It wasn't becoming of a demon prince to show himself easily impressed; He couldn't just come running to his father and gush about every tiniest thing he did like he used to do when he was an ignorant child.

Sure, he always spoke with the utmost respect when talking about or to his father, and tried his best to be as dutiful and obedient a son as one could only wish for, but that hardly went beyond of what all the servants and vassals did; It just wasn't enough.

"I admire you."

"I want to please you."

"I want to be like you."

"You're my greatest hero."

"I'm so happy that you of all people are my father."

"I love you."

Simple statements, that once left his lips like the most natural things in the world, now hopelessly sticking to the inside of his mouth to the point that he thought he could smell them sometimes, calling for him to sublimate them to fuel his every action, for it was the wish to show all these thoughts to his father that warmed his cheeks and drove him forward, the longing to challenge him to a duel and to sense that he wasn't holding back, and, as his soft boyish dreams increasingly matured into the sharp ambitions of a youngster, the desire to beat him one day, when his father would hand him the western lands, the Title of "Inu no Taisho" and all of his swords with a regretless smile, leading to one surreal moment where they would speak to each other as equals, face to face, one man to another.

Within his heart, there wasn't a stronger emotion than his wild, intense longing for this moment, as if that instant would be the only justification of his existence, as if without it, all he had ever done would have been in vain. He yearned for it with every fiber of his body, every layer of his soul, every nook and cranny of his mind, and every ounce of willpower he could muster; He worked towards it with every single action, every sweep of the weapons he was training with, every enemy he dispatched, every single breath he took as years became decades and decades turned into centuries, flying past the slowly, but steadily changing features of his face, leaving him mostly unimpressed.

He knew that his goal was high and his path was steep; he would have to succeed at what countless greater demons had failed at, but when you were the son of the Inu no Taishou, immaculate perfection was barely good enough.

At some point, after having gained some basic experience with most kinds of weapons, he decided that he would focus on swordplay – One reason for that was that he was simply good at it; Those who taught him about its finer points always noted that he seemed to have an incredible affinity towards it, that the flow of his movements looked incredibly natural, as if he had been doing this all his life, no, as if this was what he was created for.

They mentioned how he had been able to use the blade as a medium to project his demonic energies on his first try and praised his grace and lack of wasted movements.

Now, he was never one to take much pleasure in the flattery he was covered in every day, since no praise but that of his father would never be enough, but it weren't the schmoozing servants or easily impressed amateurs saying this, but the battle-hardened warriors his parents had picked because they were amongst the best their clans had to offer.

What he liked the most and might have been what ultimately convinced him, however, was how everyone was comparing him to his father and saying how he must have inherited his talents. Tough his status demanded that he must not be seen blushing or visibly embarrassed, he could not help but feel warmed on the inside when he heard these words.

He figured that he could not really claim to have defeated his father without beating him at the discipline whose mastery he was best known for, and quietly relished in the certainty that he was getting closer and closer and closer to his father's large shadow, faster and faster and faster if only for the few moments he allowed himself, knowing very well that the gap between their power was still deeper than the oceans, and that there were many things that he had not mastered quite as fast as his father.

He had to get better, no matter how high the cost; He, Sesshomaru, fully aware of what that name meant, would not let anything hold him back or stand in his way, not the limitations of his physical form, and least of all his father's needless worries.

As the years went by, he started to feel almost betrayed whenever someone underestimated him, and it bothered him greatly when his father eyed him with that worried, pensive look instead of nodding in approval.

Shouldn't that make him proud? Shouldn't he be looking forward, too, to the day all of his work as a master, teacher and a father would be rewarded?

Or was it simply not enough yet?

He told himself that it was only natural that the Inu no Taisho would not be allowed to express delight at accomplishments that still lay so deep below his level, but some nagging presence in the back of his mind kept protesting, reminding him how his father had never been sparse with words of encouragement when he was younger, how his quest for power seemed to increase the distance between them instead of mitigating it, and as much as he wanted to forbid himself any thought that was so unbecoming of an exemplary son, he could not help feeling like he had been left on his own in the rain.

His only ally in his cause seemed to be his mother, who would often just sit back with a thin, poison-like grin on her lips and tell those around him to just let him be. "It's no use. That kid is just as stubborn as his dear father. Let him be. If he overdoes it, he'll be the one to deal with the consequences. It's not our business to save him from his own misjudgments."

There might, and there certainly were those who would confuse her words with nonchalance, but it was quite the opposite. She understood, even if she occasionally challenged him by pointing out some of the limitations he had yet to overcome. She was just like him, like he always wanted to be, so very, very proud, and so very, very strong.

She was a prime example of pride, and the dissipation of the fog of his childish naivety did nothing to mitigate it, for it allowed him to see how few other noblemen and –women were actually deserving of the adjective "noble", adultering and gossiping and neglecting the maintenance and honing of their powers.

He and his parents were different from them, not only because they were the rulers of them all… or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say that they were the rulers because they were different.

At this point in his life, he was convinced that his parents would never do such a thing, that his father would never let himself fall to weakness, that he would never look at another woman, that his mother would never let such a thing happen and reward it with the taking of her mate's head.

He did not even consider any of that possible, for it would equal the realization that he hadn't understood a single thing about this world ever since he was born.

And so, he was completely unprepared when his world crashed down on him and threatened to crush him under its ruins just as the sun of his inner universe had been buried under the collapsing walls of a burning castle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the lord of the West must have been young once.

The Inu no Taishou had really wanted this child.

In fact, that was the only thing he ever wanted: A quiet, peaceful life with a lovely wife and numerous smiling children that would come running to him and euphorically welcome him back when he returned home on a hard day's eve, ready to relieve him of the worries of this world with their tiny arms and sweet little voices.

A simple dream, then, but one he was never meant to have.

He still recalled the anger and frustration he had felt when he had been forced to face this realization, the very moment, eons ago, when he had become aware of all of its implications, grasped every harsh, merciless nook and cranny of the truth; He was not young in human years then, nonetheless, all that his fellow dog-demons, including his own parents were capable of seeing when they glanced at him was a sullen teenager.

They thought that it would go away, his disappointment and dissatisfaction, but they had made the mistake of confusing deep insights, as well as personal maturation, choices and priorities with mere mood swings; His discontentment with his fate wasn't temporary and before long, he had become thoroughly disillusioned, if not outright disgusted with every aspect of his life as a demon prince.

Everything he did was because someone else decided that he should do so, and all the people that swarmed around him and filled his ears with their voices only did so because of their personal gain, out of fear, or to profit by basking in the light of the powerful ones.

The society of demons was filled with falsehood and selfishness, all in the name of this abstract concepts they called power and strength, no one trusted anyone and everyone might be plotting behind your back or scheming to overthrow you even as they pretended to be on your side; At a young age, he had already survived various attempts on his life, many of them by enemies of his parents looking for revenge, but shockingly, even more by people with the same blood in their veins, who seemed willing to tear a simple youth apart to ascend a little further in the hierarchy of dog demons; Not that they had all too much to take; they were noblemen yes, but not exactly high ranking ones.

At first, in his childish innocence, he saw his nuclear family as the victims of a cruel world, but as he had to concede that his family wasn't any different, that his parents were deeply involved in fierce power struggles and political strife that was settled with tooth and claw as, if not more often as it was dealt with at negotiation tables, and even then, it was almost part of the etiquette to intimidate the other parties; The degree of paranoia was unbelievable, and power and pride were placed above anything else, disregarding any honor, any reason, or any compassion.

He would never forget the stern looks he was given when he dared to ask why power was so important; And even after they scolded him, he did not understand. They kept talking about how he was the heir to their long legacy, their crown prince, and how he wasn't allowed to let himself fall to "weakness" like his failure of an elder brother.

Said brother was several centuries his senior and he had barely seen his face; his name wasn't to be as much as breathed in his parents' presence and when they had him assassinated so that he, their younger son, could be the sole beneficiary of the family heirlooms, they expected him to be grateful.

Needless to say, he wasn't.

He wasn't grateful for the cruel spilling of innocent blood for such a ludicrous reason, and he was even less grateful to have the awful realization that had been dawning on him for quite some time proven in the most horrible manner; He wasn't grateful to have his small, cherished little dream thoroughly shattered and replaced by cold certainty: The seemingly insignificant little wish he had harbored was thoroughly impossible: He would never know anything remotely close to peace and quiet, for even if he tried to avoid violence, others would not; Power like his could not be ignored. He was damned to spend all his life fighting in self-defense, and he could forget the wife and the children as well.

The only wife he would ever have would most likely be some poor soul that had been sold to him or his parents, like a common object for political reasons, a young girl or an old widow, or in any case, someone who'd give him the feeling of having to apologize profusely for even thinking of touching her, and as for his children, he would be forced to watch as they killed each other over the right to pluck his belongings from his cold dead hands when his time came.

He was told that he was blessed, that he had been born for great things, but he could not see how what these empty words referred to was any good to him; For it was the reason why his parents had picked him as their heir; That was the worst of it all, that he was actually good at fighting, that his power passed any test all those who sought his life put it through; If it wasn't for that power of his, he, being the second son anyway, would have been left alone and might have hidden away to some quiet place to escape the single, long battle his life had turned into, like that, he might have had a chance to fulfill his wish, but the reality of the situation was that such a chance never existed, so that the strength that made others fear and admire him felt like a hot and heavy burden that every part of him just wanted to let go of.

Even without his parents' involvement, his rise through the ranks happened almost by itself; He would end up defeating a big cheese from some highly influential clan who happened to be annoyed about his existence in one way or another, just to save his own life, only for their cowardly henchmen to pledge allegiance to him, leading to more and more challenges as the leaders amongst the local demons increasingly felt the need to prove who's boss, and much more often than not, that was him; Before long, every demon worth their salt knew him as a force to be reckoned with, and then, just like his parents had always wanted, he caught the eye of the grim, harsh man who held the title of the "Inu no Taisho" before him; They called him Hiroshi the Impaler, after his favorite way to give his foes the finishing stroke after he had thoroughly broken their bodies; He was paranoid, merciless and enjoyed nothing more than subjecting his opponents – or even his less successful underlings, if he was in a particularly foul mood that day, to needless, spectacular overkill; Whenever he started a fight with a rivaling group of demons, he would first do that to two or three of the opposing faction's warriors to decorate his follower's weapons with their corpses, to demoralize the enemy, so he said. The many scars that covered the middle-aged-looking man told a long story of desperate individuals who had tried to stop his terror and failed miserably, presumably to watch him pull their loved ones apart before meeting a painful demise, if the death of said loved ones wasn't what had caused them to try and fight that feral beast that hardly deserved to be called a man.

After witnessing his prowess in battle, the monster immediately took a liking to the younger dog-demon and made him his right-hand-man, much to the chagrin of countless other demons that had been loyally serving him for years, hoping to claim that position.

Had they asked him with words instead of weapons, he would not have hesitated to leave his position to them – whatever appreciation had earned him his position, it was entirely one-sided; He deeply despised that blood-thirsty abomination with all of his being, and having to try and please the killing machine that was his lord left him in despair.

He could only envy the humans that most of his kin looked down at at best and occasionally had for breakfast at worst; They were frail, transient beings, but most of them save for the most despicable ones, stood together; compassion, trust, kindness for its own sake… he would not go as far as thinking that his kind wasn't capable of such emotions, but they didn't seem to value them either, regarding their gentle tugs as sighs weakness that needed to be squashed.

Soon, he had grudgingly resigned himself to his fate, silently resenting it as he walked the path marked by the red carpet that had been laid out for him before he was born, trying and failing to keep the bloodshed at a minimum, almost as a futile gesture of rebellion.

Before he knew it, he was fully immersed in a life he absolutely did not want.

And then, just like that, she saved him.

From the first time he saw her, he could tell that she was different; She did not hesitate to speak out against them; The thought of sweet-talking him to win his support did not seem to have as much as crossed her mind. She always called things what they were, be it the state of the skirmishes at the border of their territory, or his hesitation, and if she disagreed with him, she would tell him to his face.

She was the first in a long time not to be intimidated when she first heard who he was, for she had a similar reputation to back it up and a standard to hold up; After all, she was the heiress of the half-moon-clan. Their relationship was antagonistic at first; At first glance, he had mistaken her for another of these vain, stuck-up nobles who thought their power gave them the right to do everything; In fact, he spent quite some time thinking that she was the most arrogant of them all. She irritated him – Death, Decay, Destruction, there wasn't a thing that she seemed to take seriously at all. Apparently, nothing in her surroundings merited more than the half-hearted melodrama she seemed to play more for her own amusement than for anything else.

Regal and proud as she was, he could not help but notice that childishness she had about her, her girlish pigtails that mirrored those long ears she had in her true form, her insincere smiles of playful amusement and the small gestures that came with it, her pouts of indignation, her sharp, deadly, demonic claws painted bright red.

It made it easier to put up with her, to just try to see her as one big, spoiled child, an annoyance that he, as the more mature person, was supposed to ignore, but as she was one of the few who could fight at his side without slowing him down, they were often sent out together and soon, he began to see that despite the cold, indifferent exterior that a demonic noblewoman's education had created, her heart was on the right spot and she knew very well where her limits were; Her claims were not the product of vanity or arrogance, but unembellished truth. Unlike the rest of the Inu no Taisho's deceitful decadent followers, this particular woman did not lie. She didn't have to.

She would never be needlessly cruel, either, and while she did not understand his fascination towards them, she did not hate humans, either. She seemed mostly indifferent towards them, would let them be if they didn't provoke her, and disdained those who would attack beings that could barely fight back.

Soon, he learned to appreciate her, and she learned that he thought she didn't respect him because his family wasn't as prominent as hers. She didn't waste a second to tell him that this was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "You wound me." She lamented theatrically. "Do you really think I, Princess Eka of the half-moon-clan, would display such foolishness?"

Somehow, he thought it was cute.

Fighting side by side, they got to know each other better, to understand why they were the way they were; Apparently, she had often felt lonely in the huge castle in the sky; Even before her parents fell in battle, they were always away on one quest or the other. She said that she did not resent them for fulfilling their duty as demon lords, which was probably the truth since she got quite furious when he even suggested the possibility, but that she could understand and accept it with her mind did not mean that it wouldn't hurt her heart.

He told her his story, as well.

Of course, she immediately started lecturing him. That, in itself, wasn't much of a surprise, she did that all the time, and many a demon would have disagreed with his opinion there. Her criticism, however, wasn't anything close to what he had expected.

While most demons would have ridiculed him for his so called weakness, in her eyes, the problem was entirely different: "Oh, stop it, your whining is getting boring!" she yelled from one moment to the other, stopping him in mid-sentence. "Don't expect me to feel sorry for the Inu no Taisho's Lieutenant!"

"As if I _wanted_ to serve that mad butcher!" he reiterated, momentarily forgetting that this exclamation, had the right people heard it, could have cost him his head.

But Eka, as it turned out, had never held such fears to begin with: "If you hate him so much, and think what he's doing is so wrong, why don't you get rid of him, take his place, and do it better?"

It took him a while to realize that he had really meant every single of those words she had spat back at him. The mere thought of that would never have crossed his mind.

But that, exactly, is how Eka changed his view of the world; It was because of her that he stopped seeing himself as a victim and really began to think of how he could use his own two hands to fix the wrongs that he could see.

It was only when he met her that it occurred to him that the power he had so often cursed could be used _for good._

"You're an adult man. Do _what you want_." The cold truth of her words hit as hard as a rock to the head; all this time, the very things that he thought were shackling him to a life he did not want were the keys to change it all; It was true, there were things that he could not do because he was a powerful demon. But it was also true that there were things that _only_ a powerful demon could do – and ending the current Inu no Taisho's reign of terror was one of them.

"But… Eka-dono, would you betray Hiroshi-sama just like that…?"

"Don't get me wrong, I don't really care for your sentimental little ideals, but if you're the Lord of the Western Lands, _you_ get to decide… There is quite a lot you could do in that position…And I certainly hold no love for that "mad butcher", as you aptly dubbed him. You see, many of those to call themselves rulers of the Western Lands came from the half-moon-clan. The most recent one to hold that title was my mother. Hiroshi…" she made a pause to accentuate the sudden dropping of the honorific. "…deposed her."

His eyes widened at the realization of just what the woman in front of him must have witnessed, probably as an impressionable little girl.

His state of shock lasted several seconds, but quickly dissipated when further implications made the clockwork of his mind start ticking again. "…But wait, does that mean you only associated yourself with me because you wanted to use me to have Hiroshi-sama killed? And how do you know that I won't just go and tell him that you're plotting against him?"

He had just started to believe that she was different from all these insidious schemers… he did not want her to be like that, too. The days of his life had just started to become… bearable since he had a comrade to care for, talk to and compete with… Yes, it was only now, when it all threatened to reveal itself as a lie that he understood that he had begun to see her as his lone ally in this mess of a world. It was not fair of her to show him that hope just to snatch it away from him, and besides, he thought that she had been starting to enjoy his company as well, because of _him_ , not because of some revenge plan.

Eka, true to herself, just smirked. "I must admit, that was one of the reasons, but it's me who's telling you right now, so don't act like I've been keeping something behind your back… But rest assured that I wouldn't offer _just anyone_ to support him in becoming the ruler of us dog demons… I _do_ have my pride. I would fight Hiroshi on my own but if I lost and died, there would be no one left who could hold a candle to him. Even if I defeated him, but died of my battle wounds, there's no telling what unworthy wench would seize his title. My mother's title. I think I owe both my ancestors and those I rule something better than that, don't you think? If we both fight him, we are sure to win, and at least one of us would certainly live. And for the second thing, I've known you long enough to know that you wouldn't tell. You're silly like that."

"You… you think I… I'm "worthy" of that? Of being… the Inu no Taisho?"

After hearing just how much it all meant to her, how what she called "Pride" was very different from what all the others meant by that word, he suddenly realized just what sort of opinion she must have of him.

He didn't dare to think that this could be true; certainly, he must have been reading too much into it… but she just smirked at his ridiculous expression and explained exactly why she had chosen him: "…oh, my dear friend, there is no one amongst this decadent pack who could be worthier than you are."

And then, she started to praise his strength. Real, honest praise, not shallow flattery that was somehow meant to benefit herself. It was the first time that he could really enjoy being complimented, that he could hear such words without feeling shame.

Actually, he found himself enjoying the words that sprung from her lips, struggling not to blush.

She said that he was different from anyone else, that he was in his position because of his very own power, not because he'd inherited it; He had truly earned it worked his way upwards. She said that he wasn't vain and didn't care much for false politeness, that he really _fought_ when he was on the battlefield instead of using it as an opportunity to show off unlike all these other, polished-up noblemen she'd met before; That he was wild, true, unkempt, muscular, fierce, manly, maybe even a little feral, someone who directly stood on the front lines instead of letting others do it all for him while barking out orders from a safe distance.

She said she liked how he preferred to fight in his true form and didn't mind getting himself dirty and sweaty, that he was still a real warrior.

And he just stood there, overwhelmed, a centuries-old demon prince reduced to a red-faced boy, incapable of any reply besides an eager nod of his head.

He would finally have it after all, his wife and his kids, his love and his trust, his little, peaceful place to return to. He was going to create it with his own two hands.

Yes, he was certain.

In that moment, he felt a surge of determination washing through his form like he had never known it before. He felt like he stood on the top of the world and had all of it within his grasp. Yes, together, they would usurp Hiroshi and make this world a better place.

It seemed feasible… after all, said world had already begun to look much, much brighter to him.

From that day on, he and Eka conspired to overthrow the current Lord of the West. The first stepping stone on their quest was to amass more power. They were already strong enough as they were, but better safe than sorry. All this talk of Eka's of the possibility of her dying… the silver-haired man did not like it one bit.

Their plan was to acquire a powerful weapon, and it had been his own idea, one of the first things he thought of after her words had inspired him. They went to take possession of Sounga, the legendary sword of world conquest.

The stories were something the higher demons would chat about to pass the time, like they were some sort of jokes; As long as he could remember, he had never found any of them funny in the least. A cursed sword with the soul of a dragon from hell sealed within, which grants their owner – usually a human or a lesser demon – horrifying powers in exchange for their souls, possessing and corrupting them to turn them into nigh-unstoppable killing machines who would then proceed to scar the landscape with a trail of destruction until someone even stronger wrested the cursed weapon from their grasp, just to start the cycle anew. By now, it was widely known that it was cursed and only pursued its own interests, using its wielder as a mere puppet, but people never stopped seeking it because they were so goddamned crazy for power.

Those stories were one of the many things that convinced him that there was no point in seeking strength for its own sake.

But now, with her at his side, he saw things differently. Now that he was a man, and not a boy, he thought further. He thought of what could be done, of what _he_ could do.

If someone strong enough owned the sword, people would stop seeking it if only out of petty fear for their own lives. If someone took possession of it without being possessed, many innocents could be saved… He had a strong, firm will and a demonic aura that could subdue any ever so truculent sword, no doubt of that. A pair of dog-demons with blood from the underworld in their veins seemed like just the right opponents for an artifact from hell.

Yes, this was something he, as a demon lord, could do. This was a way in which he could use his power to end a long chain of bloodshed. And on top of that, he would get a powerful weapon to defeat Hiroshi with. To fight fire with fire, so to speak.

It was his first major legendary deed; Aided by his trusty friend, whose dark sorcery wasn't to be taken lightly either, he took the cursed blade from its demented owner, just in time to stop him from slaughtering a village.

The battle was long and tiring, but it helped that it was two against one. After a brief struggle of wills, the sword was under his control.

The woman at his side was surprised, stating that she had never seen him fight like that, and that he seemed even stronger than usual. "Have you been holding back all this time, even when we were sparring together? Hmpf, I wonder what I did to deserve that very low opinion you seem to have of me."

"It's not like that…"

And it really wasn't. Until recently, he'd been aimlessly doing what he'd been told, hating every single second of it. But now, he had something to fight _for,_ he had a reason to want to win, to _need_ to win, besides saving his own life.

He had found what would always remain the source of his strength for the eons and centuries that were to follow, for every little moment up to his last breath beneath the burning remains of that collapsed castle.

That… little family, and all its future additions. The ones he wanted to protect, the people he wanted to keep safe… at first, only Eka, then, after he defeated the tyrant of the west and put himself in his place, all the humans and demons who lived in his realm, next, her son, and much, much later, Izayoi and her child.

Yes, it was them that he learned what he considered the most important lesson of his life, and the one he considered the most important thing that he would have to teach his own children. That caring for others is not a weakness, but a strength, and that power is meaningless without someone to use it for.

After they had taken out Hiroshi, Eka wasted no time in asking to become his bride. He had planned to do it himself, unsure if she really returned his feelings _that way_ , but she didn't even leave him a chance to try and stutter it out, and took the matters into her own hands.

When she did, he couldn't believe his happiness. He didn't care that much about the fact that he was now the lord of the western lands, the Inu no Taisho, the ruler of countless numbers of demons; Any other demon would have considered that the accomplishments of their life, but in his heart, any feelings that achievement had caused him were eclipsed by the boundless happiness brought by the privilege of calling Eka his own.

He had given up on it, the dream of having a wife he chose himself, a wife that chose _him_ herself, and on top of that, someone like her, someone who was wise, honest and honorable, despite her idiosyncrasies.


	3. The Crown Prince

They say that there is hardly any bond more complex than that between a father and his son. When he's five years old, he's your master, at ten, your servant, at fifteen, your mirror image and afterwards, either your worst enemy or the best friend you've ever known; In many ways, the child is father to the man.

When the Inu no Taisho became a father for the first time, the brashness of his youth had already mellowed into the wisdom that comes with age, something that had come in handy in the millennia he had spent ruling his lands; By now, even the many demons that had once thought him weak for showing mercy and caring for both the less powerful demons and even humans held at least a grudging respect for his capabilities as a wise, just and extremely powerful leader, and he had firmly earned his place amongst the legends; His deeds were known far beyond the borders of the land he ruled and when he looked over the landscape from his castle in the sky, on a sunny day where the clouds wouldn't interfere with the view, he knew that all he could see was well protected, and it filled him with pride.

From here, his turbulent youth was but a small period of a life he was overall satisfied with, and he thought of the child his wife was expecting as the one last thing that his life lacked to be absolutely perfect.

As mentioned before, he had always wanted to have children and long ago, he had made the decision that his first child would be his last child as well; He would have liked to have more, but he couldn't bear the thought of them fighting. He had never forgotten how his parents, both of whom had long since left this world, had that elder brother he barely knew, their own flesh and blood, assassinated without batting an eyelash, and he knew of others who had personally offed their siblings; He did not want anything like that happening in his castle, he would not be able to bear it, even if he would never live to see it.

The mere possibility repulsed him.

So, this one child had to be enough, but one was more than he used to expect, so he saw no reason to complain. Because it was only ever supposed to be one, however, he had spent a long time waiting for the ideal moment, until all the borders were safe, until there was a relative time of peace, until not a single factor or circumstance looked the tiniest bit unfavorable.

Now, however, he felt that both him and Eka were ready, that they had gained enough experience, that their bond had been tested more than enough.

Nonetheless, none of the many challenges he had faced during his long, long life, not taking Sounga, not battling Hiroshi, not sealing the demons from the continent, not even dealing with the Panther Demon invasion could have prepared him for the task that lay ahead of him or the wave of emotion that washed over him when he finally came to hold his newborn son in his own arms for the very first time.

The first thing he noticed about little Sesshomaru, this being the name he had bestowed upon the little bundle following a suggestion of his wife, was how incredibly small and fragile he looked, smaller than a human child would have been, helpless like the puppy he somehow was; That, of course, would not be true for all too long; Newborn baby or not, this child was a full-fledged demon. Pretty soon, they would have all their hand full with keeping the young prince from destroying the furniture with those adorable little claws of his until he was old enough to know his own strength.

With a teensy bit of disappointment, he observed that his future heir was mostly his wife's spitting image in each and every aspect; Eka's pale skin with Eka's cresecent-shaped marking on it, Eka's cunning-yet-regal-looking angular feautures adorned with her thin, elegant eyebrows, Eka's smooth, completely straight hair, of course, in the same silvery white all of the western dog demons shared, the obligatory amber eyes with slit-like pupils, sharing the same sharp, defined shape as Eka's eyes. The markings on his cheeks, at least, appeared to be something of a blend between those his parents carried, both in shape and color. Oh, and the baby had come with quite a lot of soft, fluffy fur that was still wet from what his father hoped were not bodily fluids but the water that had been used to wash them away. One might say that there was in fact more fur than there was baby.

Ironically, most of the fondest memories that the Inu no Taisho had of his eldest son were of a time that Sesshomaru himself probably barely remembered, those early months and years in which about every living being would be a living image of innocence, leaving those that had seen them like that to wonder what they did wrong when some of these sweet, angelic beings turned into adults that were anything _but._

When the Inu no Taisho thought of Sesshomaru, _his son_ Sesshomaru, the images that would appear before his mind's eye would invariably be from these blissful early years, idyllic family scenes from what he regarded as the best days of his life for a long, long time, until he met Izayoi.

He pictured Sesshomaru, roughly corresponding to a nine-year-old human child in terms of appearance, shyly peeking in his direction as he clung to his mother; He saw the three of them crossing the landscape in their true forms, on a little tour to show the young prince all that would one day be his.

Another Memory shows the three of them standing at the edge of their flying castle, looking down at the clouds below; as a form of playful training to train her son's superhuman senses, she would ask him to tell what was below the clouds using only the few scents that the wind carried up here. Sesshomaru correctly deduced that it was a large meadow, adding that the wild flowers were similar to the perfume his mother wore.

She promptly praised him for his efforts, but the boy's glance had already become fixed on his father's face, as if he was carefully searching for sighs of approval or disapproval.

Of course, the demon child found plenty of the former.

The Inu no Taisho also recalls one time where he had returned from some battle he could not recall right now and, still in the process of discarding his armor, was surprised by his little son toddling into the room, exclaiming something that probably would have sounded like some version of "father" if the silver-haired boy had been able to pronounce it.

Once he has mastered walking to where his father stood with a blissful smile on his face, the young prince found himself faced with the unfortunate circumstance that he didn't even reach up to the demon lord's waist. That, however, did not deter the demon child for long, as he quickly chose to make the best of his situation, extended his little arms as far as he could and promptly proceeded to greet the Lord of the western lands by hugging him… or at least, his legs.

Having always dreamed of scenes like this one, he promptly rewarded Sesshomaru by gently patting him on the head, which caused him to smile broadly, like all requirements he needed to be as happy as he could possibly be had just been met. In this very moment, Eka, who had presumably followed after her son, had entered the room as well and asked him how the battle went. It was more of a routine question, tough, for she would have come with him if the opponent had warranted any serious attention.

She tended to stay behind that the castle to tend to the matters of the castle and their land, while he would personally take care of the cases where more… drastic methods were needed. That was how it suited both of them best. Eka was a fairly independent person and didn't really mind to be left on her own for extended periods of time, as long as she knew he would return and had enough to keep herself busy with. Also, he still did not feel like he belonged into a castle; to her, of course, this was the most natural place to be, the very fortress she had grown up in.

Still, in hindsight, he wondered if things would have turned out different if he had stayed here more often.

Towards the end of his life, he spent a long time wondering about such things. When and how did it all go wrong? With a castle and dozens of servants at their disposal, it should have been possible to raise that child properly. It was not like Sesshomaru ever showed any potential for being a problem child; From the beginning, he never gave them any trouble. He used to be a quiet, gentle, obedient child, a bit shy perhaps, but even that seemed to be going away over the years; As Sesshomaru's father, he couldn't have asked for anything more than for this continue, the granting of that single wish alone would have been enough to bring him all the happiness he could possibly need for the rest of his life.

But alas, the minds and hearts of its inhabitants were better at making up dreams and wishes than this world was in granting them.

Even in between the latest of these fond moments, the first signs had appeared. It was impossible to draw a line, and if it had been, the complete stranger that had gradually taken the place of his beloved child would not fail to remind him of his existence, no matter how much he wanted to forget it.

He'd like to blame it on puberty, but if he was honest with himself, the change had begun before its onset and despite his hopes, its end had not given him his son back.

It started with small, inconspicuous things that he initially mistook for normal sighs of maturation and the expected fading of childish naiveté.

The strange metamorphosis had been gradual and subtle at first, which had probably stopped him from becoming alerted when he should have been and only realized just what had happened when it was far too late, when denying that he barely recognized his own child had lost all plausibility.

There came this moment where his blood ran cold, the instant where he realized that what he had been trying to protect all this time was something he would have to protect others _from._ There was this man, another dog demon, a high ranked officer in his army, who had stripped a subordinate of his position; He never said it but the way he violently slammed that underling, a middle-aged bear-demon who had loyally served that man for years, against one of the large pillars that supported _his_ throne room, made it fairly obvious.

It was true that the bear-demon had disobeyed an order and thus jeopardized one of their campaigns against the dragons of the north with whom the situation seemed to be escalating lately, but he had done so because that plan, had it been carried out, would have put a human village in danger; A village were a person lived who had once saved the life of the battle-hardened bear who took his punishment with stoical calm. The ancient laws of honor, so he stated without any sign of regret, were something higher than any orders any earthly superior could possibly give, and whatever punishment he would face was something he owed that person from the village, human or not.

The Inu no Taisho was just about to speak up to pardon the bear demon and chastise his officer for putting that village in danger at all and to degrade him after making it clear that he had no use for underlings that would abuse the power he had granted him; He was going to say that he would not want to heed his orders either if you had to be an ingrateful oathbreaker to do that, when his son spoke first.

Cold, icy words of disdain that seemed to cut through the air, a blank, expressionless face that seemed completely unaffected by the events that just transpired, a statement completely contradicting everything he thought he'd taught the boy , everything he himself stood for. That child whom the ruler of the west had given so much love and attention to actually _agreed_ with the acts of that unjust officer.

"Honor, you say? Don't make me laugh. You have long since lost any right to speak about honor when you lowered yourself to accepting the aid of a human. Don't you have any pride?" Sesshomaru asked the disgraced soldier. "Stop sullying this place with your presence and get out of mine and my father's eyesight if your life is dear to you. Run, you lowly filth, run and cling to life like the coward that you are. Afraid, aren't you?" The silver-haired teen spoke, firm and dispassionate, like this entire situation was a minor annoyance barely worth his attention. "So afraid to lose your petty life that you stooped to letting yourself be saved by the likes of a human. Anyone worthy of calling themselves a demon would have chosen death over the shame of becoming indebted to a human! _Disappear, worm._ "

That order was promptly followed and the worst was, the Lord of the Western lands was too deeply shocked to speak up and stop this. Was it that Sesshomaru's words were not unlike those he himself had planned to use, the fact that his expression had not changed even one, or the painful realization that his only son had grown up to embody every single thing he hated about demon society?

The Inu no Taisho remembered the warm smile Sesshomaru had as a child, but he did not recall the last time he had seen it.

It was only then when that he really noticed just how much he had changed, how the way he addressed him had become increasingly distanced and overly respectful (He was the lord and master to all his servants, vassals and subjects already, but his family was supposed to see him as something else. He _longed_ to come home, cease to be the Inu no Taisho and get to be just a man for a few short hours on the inside of a few select walls.) how he had shown more and more interest in the battles he fought, while starting to routinely work himself to exhaustion. (It was a necessity that Sesshomaru, as his only possible heir, would have to learn to fight; To a certain degree, power _was_ necessary to protect those one loved; He never meant for the young demon prince to use what he had learned in these lessons to ruthlessly take lives without the slightest regard for their value.)

On some level, he understood that he couldn't possibly leave his lands to such a cruel, heartless ruler, ridiculous as it would have sounded to him before, he found himself thoroughly repulsed by his own flesh and blood; He could not possibly hate Sesshomaru; Whenever negative emotions would flare up within him and direct themselves as his son, all those images would surface, images of him hiding shyly behind his mother, images of the smile he used to have before all warmth had drained from his features.

But it tore him to pieces, to see that his son had become cold-hearted, to know that he had failed to save him from being consumed by this greed for power, that destructive force the great dog demon had always despised, but never understood.

Their occasional sparring matches had lost all of the playfulness and warm atmosphere they once had; It left him thoroughly shocked, to see how his son willing to strike him _seriously, willingly,_ and even outright asked _him_ not to right back, so he stopped them, because he just couldn't stand the sight anymore.

He desperately wanted the young price to know the value of the many things he had brushed aside as mere shackles, for Sesshomaru's own sake, as well. He wanted him to understand these wonderful truths, but he didn't think he'd listen anymore; He had seen the killing intent shining in his eyes.

He spoke to Eka about it, but she hardly seemed concerned. It was how she normally reacted to any sort of problems, even those that had threatened both their lives, but this was the first time in ages that the Lord of the West had perceived her dissonance as disturbing.

"Oh, _Toga_ , you're reading too much into this. It's his youth that makes him want to talk big; You had quite the rebellious phase as well, in case you don't recall, and you've calmed down as well, haven't you? Sesshomaru is just trying to impress you, dear, with what the world he lives in considers impressive. If it's as bad as you just said, we _shall_ have to take him down a peg or two, but for the love of the gods, he's our child. He just needs to test out his limits and those are hard to find when you're the son of the likes of us… you left quite the large footsteps for him to follow, too. Just call him out if he goes too far, it sure won't harm him."

"Impress me, you say? _Impress me?_ Are you telling me that he thinks any of this might _impress me?"_

That conversation ended in an argument.

He shouldn't have done that.

He was the one who broke it all with that one blasted sentence. "Please, Eka, it's our son! At least _try_ to take this seriously! How can you be so… cold? It's hardly a wonder that he turned out like he did!"

As soon as the words left his lips, he immediately wanted to take them back. He knew his wife better than that, he knew that he had done her an injustice. But not even the Lord of the West was capable of turning back time. Those blasted words reached her ears, and of all sudden, she wasn't shouting or snarking back at him anymore.

She just stared, her eyes wide, the fierce stream energy that fueled the stream of her words suddenly severed.

From one second to the other, he realized that he had hurt her, _really_ hurt her.

He didn't know he could, he didn't think _anything_ could shatter her graceful, confident demeanor like that… But that's what happens when one opens their heart.

She concealed her emotions behind an almost childish pout, crossed her arms and sat down on her throne, struggling to fall for her own Illusion.

"Fine. Just go and blame everything on that silly, silly wife of your's. Hmpf…"

He did not know what to say.

All the anger and frustration he had felt minutes ago had completely evaporated, but the guilt and uncertainty that replaced it made it equally hard for him to just approach her and ask for her forgiveness. He had never seen her like this; For all his experience in battle, all his so-called wisdom, and everything else that made him the lord of the western lands, he did to know how to face her.

Between his estrangement from Sesshomaru, his falling out with Eka, and the trouble with the dragon demons of the north that seemed to be trying their hardest to defy any bloodless solutions, he found himself tired and endlessly frustrated.

He soon met the future source of his solace when he saved a group of traveling humans from an onslaught of the northern dragons; The survivors, amongst them a young princess named Izayoi who had been sent to meet a potential suitor, and the elderly female servant who had helped to take care of her ever since she was a little girl, would hardly have had any chance of survival if he had left them to their own devices, so he offered to escort them back to their castle. At first, they were reluctant to accept the help of a demon, but since they had little of a choice, they agreed, and on the voyage back to the castle… things just happened.

He never thought that he'd ever cheat on his wife; Ever since he was born, he had not once felt anything close to true love before he met Eka. There was never any other woman, none before her, none besides her. None of the many other women out there was an Eka; He could barely tell the difference between them, and besides, he would never hurt her that way.

Or so he thought…

But Izayoi was… she could… she… She was no Eka either, but she didn't need to be.

She was herself.

That human girl which he could have effortlessly broken apart like a wooden stick offered him a comfort that he had never known before, she completed him, like she was the reason he had come to this world eternities ago. With her, he felt like he could be his true, unfiltered self, say what he really felt, show the vulnerability he was never allowed to show. When he got injured in battle, she'd be worried out of her mind, even if it were the sort of wounds that he could recover from in a day; It still felt good. She offered him impossible things, made him part of that very human little world that was refreshingly simple, and yet meant too much for words. Like him, she had been born to a noble family and thus could understand the burden of being forced into a mold like that, even more so as a woman.

She would call him her dearest with that soft, high voice of hers, in their secret moments of what they both knew was forbidden love, and it made him feel like he was the only man in the world.

He wanted to take her away, far, far away from both their golden cages, to a place no one had ever set foot on before, where it was just her and him, so that he could keep her safe and warm and hidden away, so that he could protect her forever. His wanting for her was so intense that he had started to wonder how he could even contain it; He ought to be coming apart from the inside by now.

He longed for her when they were apart, he would imagine her face projected onto the full moon whenever they couldn't look at it together, but when they were, the crescent would lead his thoughts back to Eka.

He ought to make a clean break and leave her to find someone who loves her and only her, but just the thought of her in someone else's arms made his blood boil. He did not want to leave her; She was his equal, someone who could stand at his side, someone who understood the world he lived in, someone he was proud to call his. But she had never really needed his protection after all, except maybe in their battle against Hiroshi, eternities ago, she was pretty much fine on her own and he did like the feeling of being needed…

It was one painful, crazy situation he had gotten himself into.

Izayoi was such a gentle, pure woman who probably would have never dreamed of laying a hand on him if she had known of his wife and son; When she eventually found out, she had already fallen far too deeply in love with him to stop herself, even when her lovely doe eyes filled with woe whenever he transformed to depart towards his castle in the sky, where he had a different life, far away from her; Selfless as she was, she said that she didn't mind and understood that he had a responsibility towards his family, but he could tell that it really broke her inside, and the same was true for Eka. It didn't take her long to find out; As the old saying went, in a castle without gossip, there would not be enough wind to hold up the walls.

She took it with surprising grace, always wearing the queenly mask, never allowing herself to let some primal impulse like petty jealousy get the better of her. "Jealous of his toy human? Please. That's like you getting worked up about your wife's pet dragon. That fad of his will pass soon enough, after all, these humans shrivel up and die in the blink of an eye!" He knew that she did not really mean that; She wouldn't be one of the women he loved if she did.

But _because_ he could see through her façade, he did not fail to see how bitterly unhappy he had made her.

Proud Eka or gentle Izayoi? He doubted that he would ever feel like a man again if he had to live without either of them. In his desperation, he had made everything worse, and just when he thought the situation couldn't get any more difficult, Izayoi got pregnant.

When she told him, he felt light with bliss, heavy with guilt and hollowed out by fear, both in the very same instant.

Of course he wanted to have a child by this woman, he'd always longed to have more children, thinking it impossible, and especially now, where his relationship with Sesshomaru was practically non-existant, the prospect of a second chance was like ointment of the raw, bleeding wounds of his heart, and more than anything else, he felt that it was only right to have a living proof of their love, a lovely bundle of joy whose smile would show both their features perfectly blended.

He was sure that Izayoi had all the qualities to be an excellent mother, and as for himself, he instantly swore to protect the life growing inside of her with his own.

However, he was aware of what he had done.

Part of him wondered what he had been thinking; A human and a demon, a match never meant to mate. Never mind being an illegitimate child; their baby, that much-loved, dolefully-desired, patiently awaited scar of their love would be born a half-demon.

Now, he had only met a few half-demons in his life, but most of them had been formidable opponents capable of taking out lesser demons without the slightest effort; Some resorted to trickery and grievous amounts of "strategic withdrawal", some were simply good ad running and barely survived at the outskirts of civilization, and some were simply incredibly headstrong and adamant about their will to live, the implication being that if you happened to be a half-demon and _weren't_ anywhere near that tough, you would get trampled to death before the onset of adulthood.

This child carried blood from two long lines of nobility, and yet, the Inu no Taisho knew that his second son would be damned to the life of a pariah or worse, seeing that he wasn't just _any_ demon… Would a half-human body even be capable to have blood like his inside of it? Blood of a demon lord, blood from hell?

No matter how he looked at it, Izayoi's child would have to suffer endlessly for the sole reason that she had picked him of all men as the father. And that wasn't all; With Izayoi's steadily growing belly, it would be completely impossible to keep their relationship a secret any longer; Their families, servants and subjects, both his and hers, were bound to notice the product of their forbidden union.

Many would reject them or outright try to kill them for the simple act of falling in love; And both Izayoi and her child would become easy targets for his many enemies.

He had damned them, damned them both, damned them all.

What hurt the most was Sesshomaru's reaction. It was to be expected, with Sesshomaru being the way he was now, but it was still painful.

Even him being enraged and threatening to kill his brother would have been preferable to that complete non-reaction of his, the way he looked down at them like they didn't even merit a change of expression, the way he would disdainfully refer to Izayoi as "that woman" at best, his voice completely drained of anything but disgust and… disappointment?, the complete lack of any affection for his younger brother, whom he never thought of as a family member.

In his desperation about all these things, he went to an old friend of his to have a sword forged. Forged from his very own fang, from his very own wishes to keep those he loved save and sound, the sword Tessaiga was born, and with his defeat over Shishinki, it became legendary nearly as soon as it had been finished. Tenseiga's creation followed soon after.

In ridiculously short time, the set of swords he carried had become known as the three blades of world conquest; He had been powerful enough, but now, he could unmake mountains in a single sweep, and he only saw it as a proof that he had been right, that it was his wish to protect others, specifically Izayoi and her yet unborn child, that had brought his power to full circle.

Both his enemies and his followers were in breathless awe over the power of his new-forged blade; Some called witnessing its power the most humbling experience of their lives; Eka alone was completely unimpressed by "yet another package of brute force" as she called it. Instead, she was deeply fascinated by Tenseiga – few other demons actually took notice of it, some wondered why he would want to have a "weapon" like that, blaming it on him having been weirdly sentimental to begin with, but Eka really grasped what a sword like this would really enable him to, what it really meant to be able to cut beings of the netherworld. She was amazed that something like this could be born from his power, stating that it spoke his qualities; The qualities that the wielder of such a sword would need to have. It was one of the last fond memories he had of her, one of the last happy moments they were given; Both the business with Izayoi and the war with the dragons kept him far too busy to go and see her again until the moment he realized that he would never see her again, leaving her with only a meido-stone, a broken heart and their wayward offspring.

Unlike his mother, Sesshomaru paid Tenseiga little heed, but was impressed by Tessaiga all the more, not to say that he was completely captivated from the very first time he witnessed him using it.

"…If you were to die one day, will you give it to me?"

Typical power mad thinking.

For him, Tessaiga had never been a mere tool of destruction; From the very beginning, it was clear what the reason for its existence was supposed to be: To protect Izayoi and her child. If he, for some reason, should no longer be able to be the one to wield it while it fulfilled its purpose, he'd make sure that it would still do what it was created to.

It was his fault that his second son would have a life filled with strife; The least he could do was to leave him something to defend himself with, and more importantly, something to seal the full extent of his demon blood's power.

When Sesshomaru learned of this, it was quite possible that he would try to fight and kill his younger half-brother; He thought him capable of anything by now, even of killing his own father or brother to get what he wanted.

But he could not stand the thought of him being slain, either. No matter how far he fell, to him, he would always be that gentle, slightly shy boy hiding behind his mother.

He was responsible for the monster he had become, he had created him and let him loose on the world by failing to teach him about love and compassion. He still wanted to do that. He still wanted to save him, to know that he would be protected, and, if he should succeed with anything else on the list, perhaps he could help him to achieve true greatness.

It might have been a little naïve of him to leave them swords and expect them not to fight, but that was the only way he had to keep protecting and guiding them from beyond the grave.

The day on which the leader of the dragons had challenged him to a duel fell on the same day as the birth of Izayoi's child; His sword's power had been enough to deter anyone who valued their lives from messing with her, but it could not quench the wrath of a lone crazed man whose jealousy knew no bounds; He had been a samurai who served Izayoi's father and had often been ordered to watch over her. She had always seen him as a close friend, but nothing more, and after her perceived "betrayal" of giving her virginity to a demon, he no longer saw any reason to keep his depraved mind in check.

So, he stood on the threshold, forced to make a decision between his duties as a demon lord and his role as a father; Normally, the right choice would have been painfully obvious, his family should come before anything else, but the former had long since stopped being something he did unwillingly, he was well aware that a failure to stop Ryukossei and his kin would lead to this land being ravaged. What should he tell all the many humans and demons who were going to lose their homes and their loved ones? That he was busy saving his mistress? They'd demand their own lovers and children back, or kill his for revenge.

In addition to that, Sesshomaru had threatened that if he wanted to throw his life away so badly, _he,_ as his rightful heir and successor would be the one to take his place and do what had to be done in the last of his various attempts to talk him out of it.

Now, he knew first hand that Sesshomaru was anything but weak, but he was nowhere near the level that was needed to handle the likes of Ryukossei; At very least, not _yet._

In fact, the Inu no Taisho wasn't even sure if _he_ was capable of beating the massive dragon.

Allowing Sesshomaru to go and fight him was the same as signing his death sentence with his own hands.

Eka might have tolerated Izayoi, but he knew very well that very well that if he should allow her son to die a senseless death and let both their land fall to ruin as the dragon's prey, she would personally make sure that his head was removed from his shoulders before either Ryukossei or Takemaru had any chance to take it.

As she had never failed to remind him, she _did_ have her pride.

Whatever he chose to do, neither result would be pretty.

So he did the impossible and handled both problems at the same time, or at least in short succession. He could _not_ be in two places at the same time, but he _did_ have Tenseiga, and that left him with more time than Takemaru thought he had.

Still, he was could not stop his ardent worry for his child a lover from interfering with his performance in the battle, as Ryukossei was quickly to taunt him with.

"You don't even resemble yourself today. Is that all the oh so great Inu no Taisho has to offer? Better get your act together before this valley becomes your grave!"

He was in a hurry, and his opponent was a fellow demon lord, the last kind of enemy he could afford to be sloppy with. He did not have the time to beat him properly; Weakening him enough to seal him would be significantly easier to accomplish, but even that proved to be a challenge he could barely handle; Things could have been different if he'd had the time to be diligent, but right now, ending it at fast as possible was his top priority, and against his better judgement and every single thing both his instincts and millennia of experience were telling him, he took the risk of frontally charging Ryukossei without giving any thought to his defense, the only goal in his being to bury one of his fangs within the source of his opponent's life; In that respect, he was successful, but the dragon did not go gentle. And with the last of his strength to slash his body wide open with his steely claws, severing the layers of his flesh, leaving one large, diagonal red gash across all of his enormous, pure white form.

He immediately knew that he was done for; In his many battles, he had gotten to know the limits of his body well enough to tell that this time, they had been overstepped by the tiniest margin; He might have been resilient, but in this case, it would only serve to make his demise slow and painful. With a wound like this, a human would have bled to death over the course of a few minutes; He had hours at most, perhaps days with treatment, but he was not deceived into believing that he had a chance. But then again, a few hours were exactly what he needed; That would be just about enough to save Izayoi, name his child and personally drag Takemaru all the way to hell.

When he shifted back to his human form after the battle, Sesshomaru was standing right behind him; That stubborn child had really meant to take his place. He even made one last attempt to talk him out of going after Izayoi, but he was the one that his son had gotten that stubbornness from in the first place, and he would not rest until he'd made sure that Izayoi was safe and sound. Addressing a few words at the silver-haired teen in one last attempt to set him on the right path, he prepared himself to go and meet his fate at the hands of Takemaru.

The only thing he regretted as the collapsing castle buried him under its blazing remains was that he would not get to witness the results of his plans coming to fruition.


End file.
